


Fall from Grace

by fraufi666



Series: Fall From Grace [1]
Category: Political RPF - Australian 20th-21st c., Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - Politics, Authority Figures, Betrayal, Brexit, Climate change denial, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Misogyny, Multi, Nudity, Political Alliances, Politics, Power Play, Reference to coronavirus, Romance, ill health, trade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26476954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraufi666/pseuds/fraufi666
Summary: Tony Abbott is employed as an advisor to the Board of Trade by Boris Johnson. Despite criticisms from abroad and at home, the Prime Minister stands up for Abbott, believing that he has what it takes to do the job. When arriving at England, Abbott is all too aware of the disapproval shared by others of his views. Yet, what cheers him up is his close alliance to ardent Brexit supporter, Nigel Farage. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Tony Abbott/Boris Johnson, Tony Abbott/Nigel Farage
Series: Fall From Grace [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035591
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is an AU. Although I have used real people and political figures this is entirely a work of fiction. All romantic encounters, events and insinuations are from my imagination. I mean no disrespect to any of the people depicted. I am also in no way politically biased.

It was a long, exhausting flight, but Abbott knew that it would all be worth it by the time he arrived at 10 Downing Street. After all, it was not every day that the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom would appoint an Australian to be an adviser.

Abbott’s eyes glazed over as he thought about Boris Johnson, before his eyes fell on the passing flight attendant. She was extremely beautiful, her uniform fitted snugly over her curves. For a minute, Abbott could not help but to stare.

Instantly, an elderly woman glared at Abbott, causing him to look away in embarrassment. No doubt she was one of the people who agreed with the damaging claims of him being a misogynist. Like his other critics, she probably thought he was homophobic, racist and a climate change denier too. But he soon cheered as he remembered the way the British Prime Minister had come to his defence in an interview he saw on the television the other day.

“This is a guy who was elected by the people of the great liberal democratic nation of Australia!” Johnson exclaimed, dressed in a hardhat and red safety vest, “I think that speaks for itself.”*

Abbott smiled to himself as he thought of the way such a powerful man had sung praise his way. It had been a very long time since he was truly respected. Being Prime Minister was a harrowing experience and there were enemies wherever he went. Even the one who he admired and saw as his closest friend, Malcolm Turnbull, was nothing but a traitor too. He tried not to dwell over that thought. Even though he had dealt with so much heartache from that man alone, his future was looking a lot brighter and hopeful.

_Good evening passengers. We are now arriving at Heathrow Airport. Please make sure all your devices are switched off._

Abbott never felt more relieved to hear an announcement. He tried to mentally prepare himself as the plane landed and then made his way with the other passengers through the arrival terminal. He saw many people waiting at the airport and his mind automatically thought of the cheesy airport scene at the end of his favourite rom-com, _Love Actually_. Abbott shook his head slightly, as if to get the idea out of his head. This was real life, not a love story. Given all his issues with Turnbull, he did not expect anyone to wait up for him.

That is, until he saw him.

Nigel Farage stood in the crowd, holding up a sign on a white board with a message that made him smile.

_Welcome home Tony._

After collecting his luggage from the baggage carousel, he approached the British politician. Like a gentleman, Farage immediately assisted in carrying a bag that Abbott was struggling with, tucking the sign under his arm.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Abbott admitted breathlessly, relieved to have the load taken off him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Farage responded, beaming widely, “I said I would be there, didn’t I? Don’t think for a second I’m abandoning you, you silly tit.”

Abbott felt himself blush at the man’s supportive words as they walked to Farage’s car. After putting the luggage into the boot and getting into the car, Farage drove them out of the airport.

“How was the flight?” Farage asked, his eyes on the traffic that illuminated the darkening horizon.

“Too long.” Abbott sighed, grateful to be beside the politician he cared about. Farage caught him looking at him and smirked.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back soon enough. It’s a good thing you left accommodation to me anyway, or you’d be paying twice as much. I know all the best deals.” Farage boasted with a chuckle.

Abbott leaned back in his seat, feeling so much more relaxed than he did on the flight. Farage was truly his saviour. He looked out of the window at the bustling nightlife of London. It felt good to be back. Plus, seeing Farage in the flesh instead of on the screen was a refreshing change. Cybersex with a very slow internet connection, no thanks to Turnbull’s efforts, was a mood killer. Besides, it was difficult to tell if the other party was feeling any pleasure when the picture continued to lag.

They finally arrived at the hotel that Farage had booked in advance. As soon as they entered the room, Abbott placed down his luggage onto the floor. He was about to unpack when Farage grabbed hold of him, pushing him up against the wall.

“Don’t worry about unpacking, Tony. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” The British politician said, leaning into him. Abbott could smell the strong tobacco on the other man’s breath. Perhaps with luck, Farage might offer him an expensive cigar. Farage removed his jacket, kissing him roughly on the lips as he did so.

“Ah…Nigel…shouldn’t we-“Abbott started to speak, before being interrupted by yet another kiss.

“Shouldn’t we go to the bed? Jolly good idea.” Farage said, reading his mind. 

The two continued to kiss passionately, tearing off each other’s clothes in the same kind of desperate frenzy of the anti-Brexiters after discovering the results of the referendum. Without wasting too much time, both men climbed onto the bed, Farage kissing Abbott from the face downwards.

“N-Nigel-“ Abbott stammered as the Englishman’s hands began to explore him, “Let me do something for you.”

“Nonsense.” Farage chuckled, his face on Abbott’s chest, “You deserve this for the great job you will do for our nation.”

Farage continued his journey downwards, before finally pecking a kiss on Abbott’s hardening member. He took him in slowly, the tension merely adding to the Australian’s excitement. For someone who appeared so reluctant to support homosexuality in public, Farage could not be more of an eager lover. He continued to toy him with his tongue, feeling himself harden as the other trembled and moaned to his every gesture.

“Enough with the foreplay,” Abbott murmured, getting too impatient. Farage released him immediately, a look of surprise on his face. But he quickly understood what the other meant.

“Of course. We don’t want this to drag on like Brexit.” Farage responded, as a matter of fact.

Abbott immediately got into position, facing the bedhead as Farage held his waist from behind. He gasped as the Englishman entered him, enjoying every inch of his length.

“Quickly Nigel.” Abbott begged,

“My my, someone’s getting a bit desperate for the Brexit Package.” Farage remarked, grinning jovially at the other man’s impatience. It seemed like this was the moment Abbott had been waiting for, for far too long.

Farage began to thrust roughly a few times, causing Abbott to moan loudly in appreciation,

“More, more!” The Australian cried,

Farage’s thrusts became quicker and harder, making sure that the other could really savour every inch of him. Abbott lay his head on the pillow, face down as he gripped the sheets, his body shaking as he enjoyed every moment.

“Oh, oh god.” Abbott moaned, gritting his teeth as Farage continued to penetrate him with no mercy. He was getting faster and faster that the Australian was struggling to breathe. Never had he used up this energy: even a marathon at Bondi Beach was nothing like this.

Finally, he gave out a cry as he came, Farage pulling out before taking him into his arms. They continued to exchange a few hard kisses, before each fell back on their pillows, exhausted but buzzing with excitement from that intense session.

“When was the last time you ever had a shag like that?” Farage asked, wrapping his arms around Abbott’s chest as he leaned into him, his jaw on the other’s shoulder.

The Australian paused as he remembered the way he had last been in a passionate, but drunken embrace with Turnbull. It was only a couple of days ago, but now it seemed so long ago. He was in love with the former Communications Minister for what seemed to be an eternity, but he could never forgive him for the way he continued to break his heart.

He turned around to face Farage, gazing into his eyes.

“Have you ever been heartbroken before, Nigel?”

Farage laughed, “Answering a question with another question? Such a trait of a political animal. As a matter of fact, yes. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is what we make of our situation now. Who was it?”

Abbott sighed. “Are you sure you want to know?” Even though the wounds were still raw, he did not want to trouble his lover.

“Of course. Nothing you say can bore me, Tony.” Farage responded warmly, stroking his cheek with the back of his hand.

“It was such a long time ago.” Abbott replied, his voice distant as he remembered such a bitter time, “Back when I won that Rhodes scholarship in Oxford. I was in love with who would later become my colleague, a member of my parliament. The things he made me do…and yet, I still continued to come back. I was nothing but a faithful dog to him, but he betrayed me time and time again.”*

Farage smiled softly, “You’re only human. But look at how far you’ve come. If it weren’t for that heartbreak with your colleague, you wouldn’t be here with me right now.” His other hand moved down Abbott’s lower back, pinching one of his buttocks playfully. “You’re working for the big man himself now. Don’t ever let the bastards get you down.”

Abbott took hold of the back of Farage’s head, pulling him in for a slow, tender kiss. After they had finished, the Englishman’s eyes were wide with astonishment

“What was that for, my dear?”

“I’m just lucky to have you on my side, Nigel.” Abbott responded lovingly.

“Of course. That goes without saying. You’ll soon have the entire world on your side, once the left begin to wake up to their own agenda.” Farage kissed Abbott on the cheek, “My Saviour of Britain.”

Farage always seemed to know the right thing to say, and the two soon found themselves lip locked once more.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up bright and early for his meeting with Johnson. Farage offered to give him a lift, but Abbott decided to get a taxi: he did not want the press getting any funny ideas, after all.

Now that he was at Number 10, he was made to sit in the corridor.

“The Prime Minister is _very_ busy.” A staffer responded stiffly, turning up her nose at him. It was clear that she had also read the scathing articles about him in the paper.

“But he said that our meeting was at nine.” Abbott tried to explain, but she pretended not to hear him. He looked at his watch, hoping that Johnson was going to start wondering where he was.

After a few more anxious moments, Abbott got up from his seat and was about to look for the Prime Minister himself, when Johnson had managed to enter the room.

“Tony!” He bellowed with delight, giving him a hearty handshake, as if they were old friends, “So good to see you again. I’m surprised my secretary didn’t notify me of your arrival.”

“Yes, about that…” Abbott was about to explain, but Johnson had completely forgotten the affair and grabbed hold of his arm, walking him up the staircase. He could see all the portraits of the Prime Ministers looking back at him.

“Isn’t it just marvellous?” Johnson exclaimed, noticing that Abbott was admiring the portraits, “It’s such a great privilege to live here, even though it is only temporary. But given the nature of your job, it’s just as much a home of yours too.”

“I’m honoured that you chose me.” Abbott said gratefully, as Johnson guided him into his office. He took a seat at his desk, Abbott sitting down in the seat opposite to him. The Prime Minister beamed at him, as if a child about to receive a new toy.

Johnson took out a file. “So now we have had all these issues on Brexit, you wouldn’t mind having a look over some of these policy briefs for me?”

“Of course.” Abbott explained. He opened up the file, immediately overwhelmed at all of the text he had to read through.

“I apologise. It doesn’t exactly make for light reading.” Johnson responded, reading Abbott’s expression. “But I know that if anyone can get through all of that, it’s you.”

Abbott smiled back at him, taking out a pair of spectacles to have a proper look. In the next few minutes, he was so absorbed in what he was looking at, that he did not notice the Prime Minister turn into a shade of white. Johnson stood up, slightly wobbly on his feet and went over to open the window, but instead collapsed to the floor.

Immediately Abbott dropped the file and clambered to his feet, helping Johnson up from the floor. The politician looked worse for wear.

“What’s happened? Are you okay?” Abbott asked in concern, as he helped Johnson back to his chair.

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” Johnson tried to laugh it off, “Probably karma from all those lefties wanting me to die from coronavirus when I had it. I’ll be alright.”

Much to his reluctance, Abbott let it slide. For the rest of the day, he avoided bringing up this morning’s incident. The last thing he wanted, was to get on the bad side of one of the most powerful people in the world. He stayed out of Johnson’s way, working in his office for the remainder of the day.

He was feeling exhausted by evening, and was looking forward to being enveloped by Farage’s arms once more. When he entered his hotel room, however, he noticed there was a handwritten note left behind. Abbott picked it up and read it.

_My Saviour of Britain,_

_Kirsten has been badgering me to spend some time in the country with her. Given how busy I am with the Brexit Party, I have barely seen her or the little ones. Unfortunately I did promise her that I would do it once my schedule is free. I’m sorry I won’t be able to enjoy another night of your company._

_Have a pint on me. The minibar has all been paid for. I trust you will do the right thing for our country, now that the reins have been given to you._

_All my love,_

_Nigel._

Abbott scrunched up the letter and threw it in the bin. Being left alone here was not what he had in mind, and he was already missing Farage terribly. He loved being in Britain, and the job he had received as the adviser to the British Board of Trade was a remarkable feat. Yet, not having someone he could share his happiness with, made such achievements feel less special.

The next day, Abbott was to meet the Board of Trade. They appeared polite and friendly as they cautiously shook hands and exchanged greetings with the Australian. As Johnson stood beside him, they knew better than to criticise the man that he had appointed.

“This is the Honourable Tony Abbott, everyone.” Johnson said with a smile, “He will be a great asset to the team.” A few of the people, particularly the women gave uncomfortable smiles in response to him. Abbott felt slightly embarrassed. Even in a country so far away from Australia’s media, he was still unable to escape the label of a misogynist.

As they all sat down around the table, Abbott gave an awkward smile at a woman with shoulder length blonde hair, who he recognised to be Emma Howard Boyd: He had examined the list of the names and faces of members of the board a few hours prior to the meeting.

“How do you do?” Abbott asked,

“I’m fine thank you.” She responded quickly, “But very busy.”

“Haha, but multi-tasking is supposed to be something you women are good at. Did your husband leave you too much ironing?”

Boyd ignored him and turned to the other members. He crossed his arms in annoyance. All he was trying to do was make a joke, and yet she did not want to hear from him. It was amazing how political correctness was sweeping the world at such an alarming rate. Never, in a country that was famous for _Monty Python_ and _Keeping Up Appearances_ , did Abbott think that people would react so badly to a joke.

“I think our biggest concern is finding a way to make trading sustainable.” Michael Liebreich said, looking at each person in turn. “Clean energy is what is needed.”

“Exactly, Michael.” Boyd agreed, “What I propose we do is-“

“Climate change is a pile of crap, anyway.” Abbott interrupted, shocking almost everyone in the room. “How is this even relevant to trade? I think we should just stick to the old methods and increase the connections within the Anglosphere.”

“Beg your pardon, Tony but climate change is a _huge_ issue that will impact on trade if we don’t find a way to make it more sustainable.” Boyd continued, not at all deterred by his interruption. Liebreich nodded, along with a couple of others.

“Climate change is a good thing anyway.” Abbott explained, dismissing her entirely, “After all, more people die from cold snaps than from heat wave.”

“He has a point,” One of the conservative politicians responded in support. “Why can’t we just get on with things instead of worrying about greenie initiatives? Let’s work out how we can improve trade first and _then_ focus on fine tuning later on.”

“We don’t have the luxury of time to do so.” Boyd said in a tone of exasperation, “As we sit around arguing about this, the earth is getting hotter and hotter. We have destroyed our environment considerably, thanks to our need to preference the economy over the earth.”

Some people nodded, but not all. Abbott looked at his watch. It was only twenty-past nine and somehow it felt like more time had passed. Even though he had felt so privileged at receiving a position on the board, he did not realise that he had to get a lecture about environmentalism as well.

Towards the end of the day, the Prime Minister had come to watch the rest of the conference. Abbott noticed both Boyd and Liebreich had come to speak to him, their voices low, so not to be heard. As Johnson glanced over in Abbott’s direction, he knew that they were talking about him. But Johnson raised his voice so that Abbott could hear him.

“I trust my colleague knows what he is doing.” Johnson said, “And if you have a problem with him, you can always resign from the board.”

The two board members did not say another word of complaint and hastily nodded at Abbott as they left the room. Abbott walked towards Johnson, completely grateful for the way he had stood up for him.

“Boris, thank you.” Abbott said gratefully.

“Don’t mention it, Tony.” Johnson responded, slapping him on the back playfully, “Now how about we go to Number 10 and get something to eat?”

Abbott was more than happy to oblige. After all, he was flattered that Johnson had invited him out of all the advisers on the board to have dinner with him. Never, had he felt so wanted.

Whatever bitterness that he left behind in Australia was nothing more than a distant memory.


	3. Chapter 3

The dining room was much nicer than he expected. Abbott and Johnson sat facing one another, eating dinner.

“I must say, I have been impressed by your behaviour today.” Johnson said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Abbott looked up from his plate in surprise, “Really?”

“Of course. You say it like it is. You have guts. Many other people in politics are always too scared to offend others. I’ve always admired that about your character.”

“I don’t have a lot of support for speaking the truth, though.” Abbott admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

“Don’t worry about the haters!” Johnson exclaimed, standing up from the table, “You should be proud that-“

But Abbott never got to hear the rest of the sentence as the Prime Minister wobbled, trying to steady himself. He attempted to grab onto the back of the chair, but instead clutched onto the table cloth, pulling it down. The crockery smashed onto the floor, whilst Johnson swayed, before falling onto his back.

Abbott went over to Johnson, slapping him on the face a few times to rouse him, but he was out cold.

“Can someone help?!” Abbott called out. One of the housemaids managed to help Johnson up and with Abbott’s assistance, carried him to the bedroom. As soon as they got him onto the bed, Abbott helped remove the other man’s shoes. He could feel the housemaid watching him closely.

“You can go now.” Abbott said to her, “I’ll take it from here.”

Without another word, the housemaid shut the door softly, leaving the two men alone. Abbott turned to the Prime Minister, who slowly opened his eyes.

“Are you okay Boris?” Abbott asked.

Johnson took in his surroundings, frowning as he was disoriented, “What just happened?”

“You fainted.” Abbott explained, putting a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. “You’re a little warm, but nothing to worry about.”

“Blimey, I don’t remember any of it!” Johnson gasped in surprise, “Hopefully it’s not another bout of the virus.”

Abbott shook his head, not wanting his colleague to panic, “It seems like you have just been pushing yourself too hard today. Let me get you a glass of water.” He was about to stand up, when Johnson grabbed hold of his arm.

“No need to worry about me. You should be heading home.” Johnson said selflessly. It was clear that the Prime Minister did not really want to be fussed over. But Abbott refused to listen to him: his face was still so pale and he looked incredibly unwell. Abbott felt some tenderness towards him, but tried not to think about it for too long. It was natural for him to care for him: after all, Johnson believed in him in a way that not many other people did. Perhaps, he just cared for him because that was what good friends do.

“But Boris…” Abbott said with a wry smile, “You did say this was as much my home as it was yours.” Johnson tried to sit up, but Abbott pushed him gently back on the bed, “Let me look after you. It’s the least I can do, after all you have done for me.”

Johnson smiled, gazing into the Australian’s eyes, “You are such a kind soul.” He commented, reaching up to pat him on the cheek.

Abbott’s heart skipped a beat. The gesture reminded him so much of Farage, and he had not been thinking about him until now. He missed him terribly. If it were him on the bed, rather than Johnson, he would kiss him tenderly.

The Prime Minister’s hand dropped back on the sheet as he felt his eyes getting heavy. “You’re such a good man, Tony.” He muttered, his voice slurred as he was beginning to drift off to sleep, “If anything happens to me, I’d gladly let you take the reins.”

He could not believe what he was saying, “P-Prime Minister?” He asked, hoping to get some confirmation.

“Exactly…That’s what you’ll be when I retire.” He opened one eye, as if to try and defy sleep, “I want you to take over as Prime Minister. You can do that, can’t you old chap? The people of Australia voted you in…”

“You’re exhausted.” Abbott said dismissively, although he hoped in his heart that what this man was saying was genuine.

“I’m never too exhausted to say what I mean Tony…make no mistake.” Johnson yawned, turning his head to side. A few bleach strands covered his eyes like a mop. “You are the _only_ one to manage Brexit, my dear.”

Abbott felt a sense of excitement sweep through his body as the Prime Minister finally fell to sleep. It was true: Johnson wanted him to be the Prime Minister of Britain. To think that someone so successful was endorsing him like this was incredible and he felt so honoured, so flattered….

The idea of gaining so much power from the nation he always loved with its wonderful monarchy was intoxicating, he felt himself harden. Abbott quickly walked out of the room, going into one of the spare bedrooms to make a phone call to the person he loved.

“Nigel, you have to come back quick.” Abbott pressed, his voice breathless,

“Why? What’s happened? Are you alright, Tony?” Farage asked in confusion.

“Boris…he said…he said he would make me Prime Minister when he retires.” Abbott gasped, trying to ignore the bulge in his pants, “You need to come here right now. I’m so horny.”

“This is fantastic Tony!” Farage gushed, “You are the best person to lead. But I can’t make it tonight. Kirsten booked us into this lovely cottage in the countryside and she’ll get mighty cross if I don’t stay over.”

“Please, Nigel. I’m as hard as Thatcher’s austerity measures.” Abbott begged.

“Tell you what, pet. You hold on and I’ll come right over tomorrow, first thing.” Farage promised. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “I’m so desperate for a shag with you too, but Kirsten will notice something is up if I just head off now.”

“God, you’re impossible. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t take too long, okay?” Abbott sighed, still too frustrated.

“I’ll be there. Cheerio!” Came the reply.

The line went dead.

Abbott tried to ignore his excitement, but it was impossible. He stood up, covering it up with his hand as he went back to check on Johnson. Fortunately, the Prime Minister had nodded off. Abbott gently moved the blond strands away from his eyes as he continue to snore, before pulling a blanket over him. As he was sleeping, Johnson looked so vulnerable, so powerless. He often looked so cocky and sure of himself in public, but Abbott was seeing a side to the Prime Minister that nobody else was aware of. He noticed one of his arms had flopped down, dangling over the side of the bed.

Without thinking, Abbott took his hand, moving it back to the bed, when he heard a quiet murmur.

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

In a split second, Johnson grabbed hold of the other man’s collar, pulling him towards him and planting a kiss directly on his mouth.

Abbott gasped, pulling away. All his efforts in trying to ignore his erection had been dashed, for he was getting aroused all over again.

Johnson’s eyes had fluttered open and he smiled at the Australian. Seeing him gaze at him with such love, such tenderness, Abbott could not stop himself. Even though he knew it was all wrong, knowing that the most powerful man in the world was at his most vulnerable state, he could not ignore the pent up sexual frustration that flowed through his loins.

Farage couldn’t be with him right now, but Johnson could.

He leaned over, kissing Johnson roughly on the lips with such force that the other man moaned. Even with a blanket between them, Abbott could feel the erection of the politician rub up against his thigh. The Prime Minister threw off the blanket, revealing that his trousers had been unzipped since Abbott had left the room. Perhaps Johnson was not as tired as he had appeared initially.

“Come over here.” Johnson ordered, his voice full of a booming aggression that could be heard in speeches. Abbott climbed on top of Johnson, fondling with his erection as he began to kiss him again. Johnson started to unbutton Abbott’s shirt as they kissed, throwing it on the floor. Abbott unbuttoned Johnson’s shirt quickly, planting a trail of kisses from the neck to his chest. He bit the other man’s erect nipple, causing the other to gasp, only to then run his tongue against it teasingly.

“God, Tony…I _knew_ I picked the right person for the job.” The Prime Minister panted, quickly unzipping Abbott’s trousers. To help, Abbott paused what he was doing to discard his trousers immediately, before discarding the underwear as well.

Johnson smirked at Abbott’s hardened cock, which was dripping with precum. It impressed him that their bodies were just as much in sync as their politics. Now that the both were naked, skin on skin, they explored each other’s bodies lasciviously. The hunger for pleasure for each other was so obvious, and Abbott could not help but wonder if Johnson was ever going to reveal this to him, had he gone home tonight.

The blond grabbed hold of Abbott’s jaw, kissing him on the mouth before planting harder kisses down his neck, careful not to do it too hard that it would leave behind a mark. “Oh Tony…” Johnson remarked in between kisses, “You have no idea how long I had waited to do this with you. But we have a pressing task we need to fulfill. I trust you know what you are doing.”

Abbott understood exactly what he meant and he grabbed hold of Johnson’s cock, fondling it as Johnson grabbed hold of his.

“We need each other.” Johnson muttered, moaning as Abbott continued to work him, “We need to make sure that Great Britain remains great.”

“Ah…Of course, Boris.” Abbott moaned as Johnson moved his hand faster, “I-I will not let you down.”

“Then please…do what you do best…Down under.”

The Australian lay his head against Johnson’s belly as he took him in his mouth, running his tongue greedily against his member, enjoying the taste of such a powerful man on his lips. Henry Kissinger was right: Power was the ultimate aphrodisiac, and he continued to encircle him, gasping as he started to touch himself at the same time.

Johnson moaned loudly as Abbott continued his motions, gradually picking up speed.

“Oh…Oh Tony.” Johnson gasped, grabbing hold of the other man’s hair and pulling it roughly, “Take this as an endorsement of your British citizenship.” Johnson breathed deeply, closing his eyes as he began to shake to every movement of the other.

Abbott could feel the Johnson’s body finally give in as he climaxed, tasting his orgasm in his mouth. He swallowed, so grateful to receive such an endorsement. He hated giving up his British citizenship, but now, he had word from the Prime Minister himself that he would be eligible to live in the nation he loved.

The Prime Minister rolled to his side, resting his head against the pillow, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He patted the side of the bed to signal Abbott to lay down. Abbott lay down beside him, wrapping his arms around him from behind and kissing him on the back of his neck. Johnson shivered, clasping his hands over Abbott’s.

“We’re not quite done with this business yet.” The Englishman warned, glancing over his shoulder at the other. For someone who was so physically exhausted a few minutes ago, Johnson seemed to have a considerably high stamina when it came to sexual activities.

Abbott planted a kiss on his shoulder, “What do you have in mind?”

He felt a hand squeeze his own, tightly. “I want you to take me. Just as you have taken in the Australian people.”

Slowly, he inserted his cock into the Prime Minister, breathing so heavily that the bleach blond strands seemed to dance with every gasp. Johnson moaned as he felt Abbott’s length within him, and Abbott began to move his hips back and forth.

“Bloody hell” Johnson cursed as Abbott continued to grunt as he started to move faster. It was exhilarating, once being a hated figure of the public, to now having the opportunity to get deep inside the Prime Minister. He knew, from each motion, what made Johnson tremble in pleasure and what made him gasp, and Abbott refused to stop until they got the ending that they both deserved.

Nails dug deep into his arms as Johnson gripped him, his moans louder as he was on his way to a second climax. Abbott could feel himself about to come.

“Boris…I-I.”

But before he could articulate what he was trying to say, the two came together, panting loudly. Abbott pulled out, lying down on his back as he tried to regain his composure.

“That was brilliant.” Johnson murmured, rolling over on his back. He put an arm around Abbott’s torso. His trademark bleached mop was completely bedraggled after such an experience, but that did not bother him in the slightest. The sickly pallor he once had was replaced with a flush of satisfaction. “Where did you learn to do that?”

A brief memory of heartbreak from his time at Oxford had flashed into his mind. But he did not feel like talking about that right now. All he wanted to do was relax.

“It’s a long story.” Abbott sighed, suddenly feeling a sense of guilt as he remembered pouring his heart out to Farage about that sad time, only a couple of nights ago.

“That wasn’t the only long thing here.” Johnson chuckled mischievously. He kissed the Australian softly on the lips, a hand on cheek, “I am mighty fond of you, Tony.”

Before Abbott could say another word, Johnson had fallen asleep, his head leaning against his shoulder. Abbott stared up into the ceiling, the feeling of exhilaration now well and truly gone. He was all too aware of the pit of worry within his stomach. Was this really the right course of action?


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Abbott went to work with a spring in his step. Even though he had doubts about last night, he felt energised and motivated in a way that was new to him. It did not matter whether or not he got along with the rest of the members of the Board, now that he had the Prime Minister on his side. He felt indestructible. The thought of being the next Prime Minister of the nation he held so dear to his heart had motivated him throughout the day.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that when he went into his office, he got a bit of a shock.

Farage sat in his chair, his feet on his desk.

“Surprise, future Prime Minister of Britain!” The Brexiter exclaimed.

Abbott glanced over his shoulder, making sure there was no one else who could see them, before shutting the door behind him.

“N-Nigel? What are you doing here?” Abbott asked, suddenly nervous. The timing could not be any worse.

“Oh you silly tit, have you forgotten already? I said I would come over, first thing.” His arms were outstretched, as if presenting himself in a theatrical performance, “Well I’m here now, baby.”

Abbott walked over to Farage, his eyes filled with fear. “Look, I appreciate you coming here, but you can’t be here. I have to work.”

“Oh pish posh. You were _very_ horny last night.” Farage stood up, leaning closer to Abbott, “You begged me to come here. You know I always honour my promise, don’t you?” The Englishman grabbed hold of the bulge of Abbott’s pants, giving it a playful tug. His dark eyes were filled with a greedy lust as he surveyed him, “And from the looks of things…you still are.”

Before Abbott could say another word, Farage’s lips were on his, kissing him slowly, deliberately, his hand still on his crotch.

“N-Nigel, there’s something I have to-” Abbott tried to stammer in between kisses, but Farage began to kiss him with more passion, teasing him with his tongue. The Australian moaned as the Englishman continued to stroke him, getting harder which each sensation. He could not pull away, no matter how wrong he knew the whole affair was. He made a quick mental note to tell Farage about last night once they were finished.

Abbott gasped as the other unzipped his trousers, freeing his aching erection and then got on his knees, taking him into his mouth. Abbott closed his eyes, moaning as the former UKIP leader’s tongue ran against the shaft. He was so taken aback by the other man’s skill that he did not notice the sudden draught as someone had opened the door.

“What the devil is this?!”

Pleasure dissipated into shock as Abbott’s eyes fluttered open. Standing in the doorway, his hands clenched into fists, was none other than the Prime Minister of Britain.

Farage pulled away in embarrassment, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his mouth.

“I-I can explain…” Abbott tried to explain, zipping up his trousers.

“What can you possibly say, that can make this any better?” Johnson asked, his voice rising with anger. He walked up to Abbott, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Do you have any idea what I was just doing ten minutes ago?”

Abbott shook his head sheepishly.

“I was speaking with some of the members of the Board of Trade. They had some complaints about the way you conduct matters. I was defending you while they begged me to fire you.”

“And I’m very thankful of that,” Abbott tried to explain,

“Are you though?” Johnson asked in disbelief, his complexion reddening as his temper continued to rise, “I wanted you to be my replacement as Prime Minister. I gave you a job, against the wishes of many of my colleagues. I defended you while everyone stabbed you in the back. I invited you to my home. I could have given you the world. And _this_ is how you treat me?!”

Abbott touched Johnson on the arm softly as if to reassure him, “I’m sorry Boris, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Johnson pulled away in revulsion. He lowered his voice, turning to face the wall. He could not look at either of them. “So you’re saying that last night was…was a mistake?”

Farage looked at Abbott in confusion. “What does he mean by ‘last night’?”

With two of his lovers frowning at him, expecting an answer, Abbott tried to appease to them both at the same time, “I’m sorry I used you, Boris. And Nigel, I promise you I will explain everything later.”

“So all I am, is a fling to you while you waited for your boyfriend to get back.” Johnson realised, “How could I have been so stupid?” There were tears welling in his eyes. “Everyone warned me about you, and I refused to listen, because I genuinely believed in you.” Abbott tried to reach out for him, but Johnson moved away, knowing that this would only soften his resolve.

“Tony Abbott, you are dismissed as adviser to the Board of Trade, effective immediately.”

Abbott felt himself shrink as he heard those words. His heart sank. Never, did he think he would lose so much in such a short amount of time.

Johnson’s voice wobbled as he looked at each of them, his features contorted in rage, “I hope you two are happy together.”

At those last words, the Prime Minister stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

Abbott turned to Farage, taking hold of his hand.

“Please, Nigel, it was just one night. It was a mistake. Can you please forgive me?” He gazed into Farage’s eyes longingly, heart racing as he realised that this was his own undoing.

Farage’s eyes were downcast and he slowly pulled his hand out of Abbott’s grasp.

“I need time to think, Tony.” Farage said quietly, his expression solemn.

“Please, Nigel…I have nothing else. You are all I need in my life.” Abbott begged, “Please…”

The Englishman turned away, walking towards the direction of the door. Abbott tried to follow him, but Farage was refusing to listen to him. In desperation, he grabbed hold of Farage’s arm.

Startled, Farage looked at Abbott, and for a minute it looked as if he was having second thoughts. But he sighed, putting a hand on Abbott’s cheek, sadness in his eyes.

“I always thought you would be the one who would save Britain and the rest of Western civilisation. But the one who really needs saving, is you.”  
  


With those stinging words, adding to his already ruined spirit, Abbott watched as Farage turned away from him, leaving his room and his life.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a very different kind of plane ride he had as he went back to Australia. He sat alone, gazing out of the window as the plane drifted through the clouds. This was probably going to be the last moment of peace and quiet, before he touched down on Sydney Airport. The news of his resignation was already known to everyone, and he only managed to leave Heathrow by the skin of his teeth as the paparazzi tried to interview him.

He did not blame the English for being so cross with him. What he did was wrong, and pretty much treasonous. In a way, he still felt some respect for the English for wanting what was best for their country. The Australians, on the other hand were going to be a lot more ruthless. This was the thing they had been waiting for, his fall from grace. A once hated politician, now turned ruined man. He would not be surprised if his parliamentary pension was cut.

Thankfully Johnson never told anyone about why he fired Abbott. On a television interview, he sat on a chair, his face pale, no doubt from his ill health, but also from his disillusionment from the man he once admired.

“My decision to dismiss Tony Abbott remains between him and me. After some careful consideration, I had realised that he was not the person best suitable for the job.”

“Prime Minister, is there someone else you have in mind as a replacement?” The reporter asked,

Johnson stared into space, his eyes distant as he remembered the last enjoyable, but cruel night he shared with the Australian.

“Sir?”

“I do not think there will ever be anyone that matches Abbott’s skillset. The Board of Trade will continue as is without a replacement.” Johnson confessed sadly.

“But Prime Minister, you were one of Abbott’s biggest fans. Why the change of heart? What did he do to get fired?”

For a brief moment, Johnson stared directly into the camera, and as Abbott watched the news report on the plane, it felt as if he was staring into his very soul. Even though Johnson was clearly upset with him, he had refused to say anything negative about him. The loyalty was still there and Abbott wondered if perhaps there was a chance of redemption.

After a silence, the Prime Minister collapsed on national television. Gasps resounded from the studio audience.  
  


The screen turned black.

**Author's Note:**

> *Footnotes for explanations: 
> 
> “This is a guy who was elected by the people of the great liberal democratic nation of Australia!”: This was an actual quote taken from Boris Johnson when defending Tony Abbott after being seen as unfit to represent the UK as a trade adviser. You can read all about it (and watch the video) in the link below.
> 
> https://www.theguardian.com/politics/video/2020/sep/04/boris-johnson-says-he-disagrees-with-views-expressed-by-tony-abbott-video 
> 
> “I was nothing but a faithful dog to him, but he betrayed me time and time again.”: A reference to not only Abbott and Turnbull’s tumultuous relationship (especially during the contentious 2015 Leadership Spill), but also Abbott and Turnbull’s arrangement during their time in Oxford. No, this was not based on a real event, but on an earlier fic I had done entitled "The Master and the Minion". The link is here if you are curious to see where things went wrong.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623919/chapters/62199289


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